


words, words, words

by howelllesters



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Drabble Collection, M/M, but it is mostly just pure fluff, dan and phil are partners in school sports, dan and phil are silly on tour, dan and phil are tired parents, dan and phil get a dog, dan and phil go to the funfair, dan and phil go to the zoo, dan and phil learn the joys of snapchat, dan and phil meet in an alleyway, dan and phil skype each other, dan annoys phil while they're sick, dan fails at making pancakes for phil, phil has a candle addiction, warnings at the beginning of each individual fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-15
Updated: 2016-04-06
Packaged: 2018-09-15 12:21:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 15,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9234749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/howelllesters/pseuds/howelllesters
Summary: A collection of all the askfics I've written, which I may add to from time to time if you send me a prompt! Stories varying in length, all based on one word.





	1. dog

**Author's Note:**

> dog -- prompted by amortentiaadventures  
> tw: none

It might be because he’s laughing too hard or it might be because he’s on the edge of a panic attack, but Dan’s struggling to breathe.

He’s sat on the floor of their living room, and there’s a puppy sat opposite him, looking up at him with huge dark eyes, seemingly asking him what the hell he was thinking.

“I have no idea,” he whispers shakily, simultaneously entranced and terrified by their newest flatmate.

Phil’s probably going to kill him. No, Phil’s definitely going to kill him, then he’s going to shock him back to life so he can take care of the bloody dog he’s gone and rescued, and so he can put out a new video every. single. day. because that’s the only way they’re going to be able to afford a house, which they now need given that their apartment has a strict no pets rule.

Dear god, Phil’s going to murder him.

He hasn’t even thought about a name for her yet, hasn’t bought anything except two bowls and a single bag of food, hasn’t done anything but place the incredibly docile dog in the middle of the room and proceed to sit and stare at her in wonder.

Dan didn’t even mean to do this, had absolutely no plans to pass the animal shelter whatsoever, but he’d taken a detour and decided just to drop in, because Phil keeps hinting at getting a fish, and he thinks nothing screams them more than adopting an unwanted fish. There were no fish that needed re-homing today though, so Dan bid the sweet volunteers goodbye and carried on his way home, but he’d already started that dangerous train of thought.

And then he’d seen it. Across the road, a rundown pet shop with an alarming number of pet beds stacked up in front of the window, and outside, the tiniest cage with a sad looking puppy inside. Dan tried to force himself to keep walking. Going up to a dog he couldn’t possibly adopt was going to break his heart.

Only the dog had then barked pitifully, and Dan found himself heading straight towards it, realising she was a Shiba Inu and deciding that this was fate, and Phil couldn’t really argue with the universe, could he?

Less than a hundred quid later, which made Dan angry, and relieved that he’d saved this puppy from that questionable establishment, they were sneaking into the flat, and now they were having a staring contest.

The dog is weirdly humanlike with her expressions, and Dan loves it far too much. She’s looking at him like she knows he doesn’t have much time left to live, and Dan didn’t know that dogs could smirk until this moment.

Both of their heads snap round as the front door crashes shut, and Dan swallows nervously.

“Dan, I bought milk,” Phil calls, the sound of him shuffling down the corridor with plastic bags never more ominous. “And more cereal.”

Phil turns into the living room with a bright smile on his face, and then his jaw drops and the colour drains out of his face. Dan plasters a grin on his face, giving him a hesitant thumbs up, praying Phil waits until they’re alone before he goes in for the kill, simply because a puppy shouldn’t have to suffer through that.

An indefinite amount of time passes, and then Phil finally speaks.

“What is that?” Phil asks, his voice dangerously calm and collected, and Dan’s heart is thumping so hard.

“Dog,” he answers, because obviously this was the time to be smart, good one Dan, only it comes out as a squeak and it sounds like ‘doge’ and he really, genuinely did not mean for that to happen, but now he’s running the risk of cracking up with laughter again.

“Please tell me I’m seeing things,” Phil says softly, dumping all of his belongings on the sofa and standing there looking at the two of them helplessly. “Please tell me you have not got us a dog.”

Dan opens his mouth to answer that, not entirely sure of the words about to leave his mouth, but the puppy acts first. Standing up with the cutest stretch of her front paws - not that Dan should be thinking about that in a time of such peril - she ambles over to Phil, twisting round and plonking herself straight on his feet, then peering up at him with those huge eyes.

Silence reigns, and Dan’s hardly breathing, because damn she’s good, and he can literally see Phil’s resolve weakening.

“Dan,” Phil groans, and it’s clearly taking all of his strength to resist giving the dog a scruff on the head.

“Phil,” he pleads back, certain that this was destiny, because he and this dog seem to be connected on some spiritual level. They’re a team, Dan giving Phil his best puppy dog eyes and the Shibe giving him the real thing, and they’re winning him over.

“Dan,” Phil tries again, but the puppy shifts her position on his feet, and he lets a giggle slip, and Dan grins, knowing they’ve won.

“I think we should call her Susan,” he declares with a perfectly straight face.


	2. pancakes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pancakes -- prompted by theinsanityplays  
> tw: food mentions

“Shut up,” Dan hisses at the fork clattering its way to the floor. “You’ll wake Phil.”

Not that waking Phil up would be such a bad thing at this point. Dan’s stood in his pyjama bottoms and one of Phil’s old tshirts that kind of drowns him but it smells good so he’s never taking it off, surrounded by a mess, from which he’s hoping some sort of miracle will occur and pancakes will form.

“Breakfast in bed,” he mutters to himself, sweeping his hair away from where it’s rather attractively plastered itself to his forehead and smearing a trail of flour just above his eyebrows. “What a great idea, Dan, because your boyf- best friend who’s probably a bit more than platonic, is definitely not fussy about breakfast, no, he’ll eat anything at all, you definitely wouldn’t want to talk yourself into making pancakes for him, something you’ve never ever made before.”

The self-deprecating mumbling continues as Dan perseveres with his baking endeavour. This is tragic, really, he thinks to himself. For the past two days, Phil has both cooked and ordered them food, and now Dan can’t even manage pancakes. They’re not even real pancakes for Christ’s sake, not the ones Phil really likes, they’re just the crepes that his mum always manages to do perfectly every Pancake Day and that he’s utterly obliterating right now.

He’s on his second batch already. He only got up half an hour ago.

The plan was to sneak out of bed, whip something up, surprise his absolute favourite person in the entire world, and the boy he’s got more than a bit of a crush on, with the sweet smell of a great breakfast, and then happy Phil. Happy Dan. And if that just so happened to lead into them picking up where they’d left off last time he’d been over to Phil’s, well that was fine too.

“Literally, imagine if his parents came home early,” Dan half laughs to himself, whisking the mixture maniacally, spraying it across the counter. “Oh, hi, you hardly know me, I’m just the weird kid your son started talking to on the internet and this is my third time ever at your house, and I thought I’d just blow up your kitchen for the fun of it. Nice to see you again.”

He’s blushing just thinking about it.

Calming himself, Dan looks at the gloopy mixture in the jug he’s holding and decides that it’ll do. Maybe. For a first attempt that he will inevitably eat to spare Phil food poisoning. And this wasn’t even the hard part. Dear god.

Flicking the hob on, pleased with himself for at least being able to manage that, Dan wipes his flour-covered hands on his sweats and grits his teeth with determination. Evidently all romantic gestures require a battle stance

The oil part goes fine, because Dan isn’t a two year old. Perhaps he’s poured a bit too much mixture in to the pan, but this is his first time, and wow, if the pan would like to quieten down. Thank goodness Phil is a heavy sleeper, so he’s allowed to make mistakes. Hesitantly prodding the edges of his concoction, Dan bites his lip nervously as this might actually be working.

Sure he’s eighteen, and awkward as hell, and his hair gets in his eyes a lot and he looks really stupid when he blinks it away, and he’s such a huge dork, and he’s probably going nowhere special in life, but beneath all of that, there’s just a kid who’s a bit in love with some guy he started talking to online, who is so far out of his league that Dan has to pinch himself from time to time, and he kind of just wants to impress Phil for once, rather than forever being the one awed into silence by his idol turned, inexplicably, best friend and maybe more.

“Motherffffff-” Dan groans, as he attempts to flip the pancake and succeeds in dropping half of it on the floor, the rest simply folding in on itself sadly, continuing to sizzle away in the pan.

The bin is starting to grow dangerously full at this point, cracked eggs and gooey flour from when he couldn’t even get the mixture right perched on top of numerous cardboard pizza boxes, but Dan throws caution to the wind and chucks this sad excuse for a breakfast item on top too, deciding he’ll clean the floor mess up later after he’s inevitably made the same mistake again.

His second try is marginally more successful; yes the pancake still crumples up, but it does remain in the pan this time, which is progress. Progress. Hopefully Phil doesn’t emerge from his bedroom for another three hours. The third try is when Dan thinks he might have started to crack it, because even though the mixture is too thick and the pancake is undercooked in the middle, it actually flips over, and maybe he makes a really masculine shriek of joy as it happens.

Pancake number four and Dan’s ready to join a professional kitchen, before realising that he’s run out of pancake mix, because pancakes don’t need to be five centimetres thick.

“You can do this,” he pep talks himself. “You can mix. You can flip. You… you sound like a character from a crappy kid’s film. But you can do it.”

Moving the saucepan off the hot ring of the hob, but leaving it switched on for in a minute, because he’s both practical and safe like that, Dan tries to ignore the mess this poor kitchen is in right now.

Phil’s tshirt is ruined, Dan can’t remember what colour his pyjama bottoms were originally - now they’re a delightful off-white - and he’s even got flour in his eyelashes, but he can see his efforts coming together, and it’s happening, he’s going to make Phil pancakes and hopefully Phil will kiss him again because Dan’s never enjoyed kissing anyone so much as Phil, and they’ll all live happily ever after. For another thirty hours until Dan has to get the train back home.

The third batch of pancake mix is made in record time, and Dan makes a mental note to sneak off to the shop down the road at some point today and replace all the ingredients he’s used, and he’s away. The oil gets artfully drizzled round the base of the pan, the mix is truly at perfect consistency, and-

“SON OF A-”

Dan’s vision blurs with the intensity of the pain. Heat, he remembers, heat, it rises. So if you leave the pan handle over the hob, it is going to reach the temperature of an active volcano and it is going to leave the angriest pink streak across the palm of your hand.

Alternately turning the air blue and moaning in pain, Dan manages to put everything on a solid surface before blindly stumbling towards the sink, nearly crying with relief as he plunges his hand under the cold water. And yes he’s prone to the dramatics but his skin is _peeling_ and he won’t be able to write for weeks.

He doesn’t even turn round to face the rest of the kitchen. This has been an unmitigated disaster, and it wouldn’t surprise him if Phil had been woken up by now. This was probably going to be the last time he was ever invited to Phil’s house while his parents were away again. He can’t bear to face the sprinkles of flour and drips of egg dotted across the flour, the dozens and dozens of spoons and whisks and even several knives that are strewn across the surfaces, the mess that was once a clean hob.

He’s such an idiot.

Officially making a mental note to abandon the pancakes, Dan decides he’ll hold his hand under the cold water for another ten minutes like he’s supposed to, and then he’ll get to work on cleaning up. Best case scenario, he has everything tidied and away before Phil even wakes up, and even if that’s not breakfast  in bed, at least Phil will never know.

“Are you actually kidding me?” he says dully as the smoke alarm begins to sound.

Dan doesn’t even turn round to look at the smoky hot oil he forgot was in the bloody pan; things officially cannot get any worse.

There are sounds of someone fumbling around at the top of the stairs, and Dan’s shoulders drop. And there went his final hope.

“Dan? Dan?” Phil’s calling, both sleepy and worried at the same time, and it’s the cutest sound Dan’s ever heard.

He doesn’t bother replying to Phil, doesn’t even turn to look at him. As soon as he steps into the kitchen, it’s obvious he knows what’s happened, because he can’t help the snort of laughter that escapes him.

There is a moment of guilt as Dan hears the scraping of a chair across the kitchen floor and a little ‘uff’ from Phil as he climbs up onto it, and then at least the screaming alarm mercifully stops. Dan’s resolutely staring at his hand, at the water streaming over it; it went numb a few moments ago, but that’s okay with him, because he’s not so good with pain.

“What on earth happened?” Phil asks gently, shuffling over and yawning, pushing his hair away from his face and adjusting his glasses to peer at Dan more closely. “Are you okay?”

“Burnt my hand,” Dan shrugs, as if his life hadn’t flashed before his eyes moments earlier. “Sorry about the mess. I’ll clean it up before I go. I think there’s another train this afternoon.”

Phil blinks at him for a moment, unsure of whether his semi-awake mind is playing tricks on him or if the goofball stood in his kitchen has just offered to go home early because he messed up a kitchen while attempting to make… what had Phil seen in that bowl? Pancake mix?

“Yeah there is,” Phil confirms, nodding brightly, and Dan just agrees, staring at his hand intensely, unable to stop his cheeks, neck, even ears flushing bright red. “I’m almost certain you have a ticket for tomorrow, but still, probably best to check. Now, as much as the running water is clearly fascinating you, we should probably make sure your hand is okay.”

Flicking the tap off, Phil lightly dries Dan’s hand, holding it between his own briefly as he feels how cold it is. Dan just allows him to manoeuvre him, not sure if he’s more stunned by the fact Phil’s okay with him staying even though he just caused World War Flour in his house, or that Phil momentarily teased him and made Dan feel as if he’d literally just been punched in the stomach.

“I will make pancakes one day,” Dan suddenly says huffily, taking them both by surprise.

Phil looks up from inspecting his hand with wide eyes, and promptly bursts into uncontrollable laughter, kissing the frowning Dan on the nose.

“Okay, I’m going to hold you to that. Don’t care how old we are, or where we’re at, you owe me pancakes.”


	3. ephemeral

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ephemeral -- prompted by vidurvasaris  
> tw: language, alcohol mentions

Phil did not anticipate the beginning of his day involving his heart casually stopping, but here he was, not breathing as he reached out for his boyfriend only to be met with cold, empty mattress.

“Dan?” he yelled, his throat sounding scratchy from sleep. “Dan?”

He hammered on the wall between their two, technically, separate bedrooms, hoping that Dan had just stumbled home so late last night that he’d passed out in his own bed rather than disturbing Phil, but there was no sound.

Mouth dry, Phil was sat bolt upright by this point, glasses haphazardly flung onto his face, wondering where the hell the man was and what had happened to him.

“Phone,” he reminded himself, trying to stay calm and scrabbling around for the phone that sat on his bedside table. “Check your phone. He’s fine, everything’s fine.”

Blinking at the too-bright display, Phil managed to make out that he had some unread messages, amongst a handful of social media notifications and a frankly alarming number of Snapchats. He’d only had the app a week, hadn’t even told their fans he was on it yet, and already he regretted it.

Ignoring everything but the texts from Dan, he scrolled until he found what he assumed was meant to be reassuring.

_v v c v drink, jake bed xxxxz_

Trying to translate, Phil looked at his other messages and found some slightly more coherent ones from Jake, one of the group of college friends Dan had been out with last night.

_Dan’s drunk, crashed at ours, J_

Sighing with relief, Phil relaxed into their pillows. Dan was fine, he was just passed out in someone else’s house, and he’d probably mooch back to theirs around lunchtime with a headache. Everything was going to be okay, and Dan hadn’t been kidnapped in the night. Phew.

For a moment, Phil felt guilty for not going with him on his night out - he’d been invited but declined on the basis that he really needed to get a video edited, and they were Dan’s friends, not his. Dan had insisted they wouldn’t care, and Phil was sure he was right, but he hadn’t been in the mood. Of course, if he had gone, perhaps Dan would have made it back to his own house.

_Morning sunshine, hope you’re okay. Text me if you need anything, hope it was a good night xx_

After firing a text off to soothe his conscience a little, Phil spent half an hour or so scrolling through his various social media alerts, replying where necessary. He loved Sunday mornings in bed, doing absolutely nothing but being as comfy as possible. The only thing that could possibly have made it better was if he’d had another body tucked up next to him, fast asleep on his chest as Phil ran his fingers through his hair.

Remembering the Snapchats, Phil opened the app to find the majority were from a contact he was sure he’d never even seen before, _J246x_. Clicking it hesitantly, afraid he was going to be greeted with some x-rated image he could live without, he was pleasantly surprised to find a close up of his boyfriend’s face, eyes scrunched shut and face dotted with the purple, green and pink lights of the bar they were obviously in.

So Dan had added Phil to Jake’s Snapchat. The boy was a menace.

He sighed happily at the picture, saddened a little when it disappeared, only to be replaced by another shot of Dan, this time downing a glass of beer. Phil was still figuring this Snapchat thing out, but seeing temporary photos of his favourite person having a good night was pretty cool, he had to admit.

As that snap disappeared, Phil glanced at the top corner, only to find he’d embarked on something over… 200 seconds long? Was he about to be treated to 200 seconds worth of Dan pictures? Because that was cute, but he could just step into his own lounge to see pictures of Dan, or better yet, just pounce on the real thing for most of the time.

“Tell Phil something!” a voice blared out of Phil’s phone, and he nearly dropped it in alarm.

“Philllll,” Dan started, slurring just a little and raising his bottle to the camera. “Is a ffffucking wanker for not coming out tonight.”

Phil smirked at the idiot.

He was more than used to Dan’s own unique way of telling him stuff. ‘You have pasta on your chin’ meant that it had been a good date, ‘you’re really weird, did you know that?’ assured him that Dan wouldn’t change him for the world, and this little message meant he was missing him more than he really cared to let on to his friends.

“We’re having a great time!” Dan sang in the next snap, lit up in blue this time as Phil worked out they’d moved on to a different bar.

He was literally watching their bar crawl play out in front of him, all from the comfort of his own bed. What a brilliant app this was.

The next few were just pictures again, Dan’s face pressed against those of his friends, grinning stupidly in all of them. Phil’s heart skipped every time - Dan’s smile was his favourite sight.

“Hi Phil,” sounded Dan from one of them, his eyes looking a little heavy, his posture more subdued. If Phil had to guess, the night was starting to wind down at this point, and Dan was entering his sleepy, emotional drunken state, which was Phil’s favourite, and he enjoyed laughing at him for days afterwards. “I’ve stolen Jake’s phone, don’t tell-”

The video was cut off, but Phil understood, and laughed.

“I really love you,” said his phone, as the next video started playing, and Phil smiled fondly. He sensed that he was about to watch a marathon of silly snaps from Dan, and yeah, this was better than any television show.

“I was only joking earlier, I love you a lot,” Dan continued to half-whisper into the phone, attempting to be secretive even as Phil could hear the thundering music behind him. Dan’s face was half in darkness, and Phil was starting to suspect that Dan might have snuck off somewhere alone to record these.

What a dork.

“I think I want to spend my whole life with you,” Dan smiled at him happily, and Phil rolled his eyes again. So kind of him to _think_ that might be the case.

What followed were no less than eighteen video clips, all between seven and ten seconds long, with Dan telling Phil how much he loved him.

“Your eyes are like, the same blue as the fish tanks at the pet shop. That’s _so_ blue.“

“I love you a lot, and I know you think I’m just saying this because I’m drunk but-”

“I am saying this because I am drunk.”

“Phil, Phil, Phil, this is our song!”

At this point, Phil hadn’t thought it could get much better, Dan swaying with the phone while softly singing, his eyes closed and his face bathed in blue, and Phil knew, he knew he wasn’t meant to be giggling, because this was cute and romantic, but he was giggling.

And then it did get better. Their song obviously ended, and Dan sent a solemn photo of himself, just staring into the camera.

“I think I want to marry you,” were the lines from his next video.

“Marry me, Phil?”

“Imagine us married. We’re basically already married.”

“I will happily be Dan Lester, but you can be Phil Howell if you want.”

Phil thought his heart was about to explode, and suddenly he hated this bloody app again, because everything was just temporary. He’d never be able to watch these videos again, and that was just so unfair, because he hadn’t even gotten to enjoy them properly, heart too busy stopping again for the second time that morning.

His boyfriend was going to be the death of him.

Fiancé, he thought idly, glancing at the bottom drawer of their wooden chest. Dan had no idea that if you removed the drawer completely, there was a hollow section where it didn’t quite touch the floor, currently playing host to a little black box.

The next snap was a picture of Dan pulling a stupid face with the caption ‘Jake’s coming over’, at which Phil laughed again, and then the saga ended, and Phil sat in bed for a full hour smiling like a fool.

At around half twelve, there was a muffled thud and a curse from the hallway, and Phil grinned into his sandwich.

“I hate everything,” Dan mumbled, walking into the living room and flopping on to the sofa next to Phil. “Especially alcohol.”

“Good night?” Phil asked, putting his food down and shifting his position so Dan could lie down, head in Phil’s lap.

“I have no idea, I can’t remember a thing.”

“Not a thing?” Phil asked, half amused, half disappointed.

“I can just about recall being in some bar with pink and green lights,” answered Dan, and Phil smirked. “And after that, I’m waking up in Jake’s bed with the worst headache in the entire world. Literally, I think my brain is about to explode.”

“Probably for the best,” Phil said innocently.

“What’s for the best?” Dan muttered, nestling into Phil some more.

“That you can’t remember anything.”

“Why? Oh god, did I do something? Did I drunk text you? Call you?”

“…nope.”


	4. unicycle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unicycle -- prompted by unicyclesandphan  
> tw: none

Dan had been watching Phil intently for over ten minutes now, ignoring the show he was watching, laptop abandoned next to him on the sofa, and he didn’t like what he saw.

Every so often, Phil’s head would just fall into his hands, and he’d heave a sigh so big it looked as though he were carrying the world on his shoulders. Then he’d run his fingers through his increasingly messy hair, blink a few times, and carry on going through the paperwork in front of him.

He hadn’t even noticed Dan staring at him, furiously chewing his lip trying to work out how to fix this. Phil had just been in his own little bubble for over an hour now, sorting through bank statements and spreadsheets and printouts, and Dan wanted to help more than anything, but he had no clue what was going on, and he was almost certain he’d just end up irritating Phil, no matter how many times Phil would insist he was fine.

“I think I’m just going to head down to the bank, talk to someone and get this straightened out,” Phil announced suddenly, and Dan’s head snapped to the television set so quickly he hurt his neck.

“Cool,” Dan said, trying to sound casual as he turned to Phil again. “Want me to come with?”

“No, it’s all good,” Phil said, smiling a little as he stood up, even if it didn’t reach his exhausted eyes. “But thanks.”

“Anytime,” Dan reminded him, as Phil leaned over to give him a quick kiss on the cheek. “How long do you think you’ll be?”

“Maybe a few hours?” Phil shrugged. It was a Tuesday afternoon, so town wasn’t likely to be heaving, but he couldn’t be certain. God, Phil hoped it wouldn’t be busy. All he really needed right now was to get this mess straightened out and then curl up with a good film and a boyfriend.

“Okay, see you in a bit,” Dan smiled at him, and then Phil was gone, trudging out the door, head down and hands jammed in his pockets.

For a few moments, Dan just sat there, wondering what on earth he was supposed to do. Phil rarely needed fixing like this. He had his moments, sure, he was only human, but he’d been tired and stressed for weeks now, and it was getting critical. Dan knew he wasn’t sleeping well, could feel him tossing and turning next to him every night, and it wasn’t just the mix-up with his accounts today, it was so much more, and action needed to be taken.

Phil needed a distraction. He wasn’t a sit-down-and-discuss-your-feelings kind of a person like Dan. He just needed his mind taking off everything.

Fingers twitching towards his laptop, the source of all answers, Dan got to work.

—

“Please tell me where we’re going,” Phil sighed again, and Dan very nearly caved once more, but he was determined to stay strong.

“You’ll find out soon enough,” Dan just told him again, settling for a wink given that he couldn’t kiss him the way he wanted to on such a packed train.

“Will I like it?” Phil asked half-heartedly.

Truth be told, he was worn out. The trip to the bank had taken over three hours, with the issue remaining unresolved, and then he’d arrived home ready to change in his pyjamas atrociously early for a night of cuddling, only to find Dan pushing him straight back out of the door into a waiting taxi, suitcase in hand.

“Don’t you trust me?” Dan asked, and Phil rolled his eyes.

“Sometimes,” he muttered, letting his head slide onto Dan’s shoulder.

“You’re going to love it,” Dan assured him, shifting his shoulder a little to nudge Phil. “And I promise this train journey only takes an hour or so.”

“I can’t believe I let you drag me out of our lovely calm apartment to catch a train at rush hour,” Phil huffed, thankful at least for the crowd that was allowing them to blend in with everyone else. “I must really love you.”

“You must,” Dan said happily, refraining from pressing a kiss to Phil’s hair. “Now stop moaning.”

—

The lights were too bright and the screams were too loud and there were people everywhere, and it was absolutely perfect.

“I love you,” Phil informed Dan, and he’d lost count of how many times he’d said that over the last few hours.

“I love you too,” Dan said happily, squeezing his hand. “What do you want to do next? Another go on that ride, or do you want me to try and win you that giant elephant?”

“What makes you think I couldn’t win the giant elephant for myself?” Phil asked indignantly, but his eyes were bright as he looked at Dan, cheeks flushed with cold air and pleasure, and Dan was momentarily breathless at the sight.

This was his Phil, this was the Phil he knew and adored, the one with a sparkle in his eyes and a giggle behind every word. The one who played footsie with him on the ferris wheel and held his hand during the mini circus acts, the one holding the biggest mound of pink candyfloss right now and looking at Dan like he was the world.

“Your aim is terrible,” Dan reminded him, abruptly pulling him closer by wrapping an arm around his waist and steering them towards the stall where a few other people were attempting to knock tin cans down. “And you have candyfloss.”

“I do,” Phil grinned, taking another bite then kissing Dan, his lips sugary and freezing cold, and Dan could’ve stolen him away from the funfair to their hotel room there and then, but he resisted, figuring they had time. They had all night. An entire night of forgetting everything but each other.

“So we’re going for the elephant, yes?” Dan checked, handing over a fiver to the girl behind the stall, who laughed at Phil’s eager nod. “This is going to cost me way more than it’s worth.”

Phil just grinned at him again, and an hour later they were wandering back to their hotel room, stuffed elephant tucked under Phil’s arm, Dan thirty quid worse off, and their hearts so light they felt like they might float away.


	5. plates

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> plates -- prompted by anonymous  
> tw: food

He’s not going to cry, he’s not going to cry, he’s not going to cry-

Christ, but he might kill someone.

He might kill someone while crying, that’s what he feels like right now, but he’s not going to, he’s going to stand there and force an apologetic smile on to his face, because he thinks murder might be a decent reason for him to get fired on his first day.

“I’m so sorry, sir,” Dan says graciously, carefully dabbing at the one speck of sauce on the man’s collar.

Not like he’s absolutely covered in food. Not like his shirt isn’t soaked and plastered to his chest, gravy running into his socks and peas gathered on the toes of his shoes. Not like he wants to run away and never, ever come back.

No, Dan is absolutely fine, and clearly one hundred per cent in the wrong, so he’s apologising over and over again to the man who walked straight into him, the man who is inconceivably affronted, backed up by his equally horrified wife who clearly didn’t see him blindly wander into the path of the waiter bearing both of their main courses.

“I’ll have the kitchen prepare you a fresh meal as a priority,” Dan assures him through gritted teeth, fully aware that almost the entire restaurant is staring at the scene, the haunting piano music playing in the background serving only to put Dan more on edge.

He’s going to have to quit.

If he’s not already fired, that is.

Dan has an impressive history of utterly failing at jobs, but this is a new low, screwing up on his very first night. Usually it’s not so bad that he feels like he needs to quit himself, usually he just waits for the company to get rid of him, but this, this is bad. This is very bad.

“Can I help at all?”

The kind voice of Alice, Dan’s supervisor, sounds from behind him, and Dan turns to her, infinitely grateful for her presence. The husband and wife mistake her sympathetic tone as being for them, nodding and motioning to the drinks that spilled when everything Dan was carrying crashed over the table, the floor, and him. Dan knows better though, knows that she actually wants to know if he’s alright, because she’s the kindest soul that works here and had taken him under her wing within his first five minutes. Metaphorically of course - even if she had wings, at a good foot smaller than him, that would’ve been a feat.

“If you could fetch some more drinks while I finish helping this gentleman,” Dan says, trying really hard to keep his voice even. “And then I’ll inform the kitchen that we need two more steaks, and perhaps you could replace the tablecloth?”

“That sounds like a plan,” she smiles at him, and Dan’s heart lifts for the first time all night, relieved that he’s making a good suggestion.

An hour later and the couple finally leaves the restaurant, simply rounding up to the nearest pound by way of a tip, something which very nearly sends Dan over the edge.

After the new food had been ordered, Dan had had no choice but to hunt in the backroom for a new shirt at the very least, his own probably ruined beyond repair. Of course the only shirt he’d been able to find that didn’t smell like it’d been sat in his grandma’s attic for ten years was enormous, and even rolled up and tucked in, it was embarrassingly puffy.

“How are you holding up?” Alice asks sweetly, catching him at a quiet moment as he rings something up through the till and she stops to pick up some pepper. “Earlier was pretty rough.”

“I don’t know if I’m quite cut out for this,” Dan admits, hands shaking as he punches the numbers in. No need to tell her yet that he’s quitting after his shift finishes in two hours.

“Hey, don’t say that. Why don’t you take a ten minute break, go get some air out back?”

“Are you sure?” Dan asks hesitantly, torn between wanting an escape and not wanting to appear lazy.

“Yeah, yeah just cut through the kitchen and you’ll be in the alley outside. It’s not particularly pretty, but you look like you could do with a breather.”

“Thank you,” Dan almost whispers, wasting no time in shoving his black apron beneath the counter and barrelling his way through the kitchen.

He bursts through the doors seconds later, the cold night air biting into him instantly, and then he’s colliding with someone for the second time that night, only this time they’re incredibly solid and Dan’s on the floor before he even realises.

“Holy sh- are you okay?” someone asks him, and Dan blinks, trying to assess the sudden throbbing pain at the small of his back.

“Yeah,” Dan mutters, wincing, but accepting the pale hand that’s extended to him. “Ouch.”

“I’m so sorry,” and Dan turns to look at the person, the rock, he crashed into, taken aback when he finds himself letting go of the hand of a slim guy wearing skinny jeans and a black tshirt, distinctly sweaty-looking hair pushed back off his forehead as though he’d been running his hand through it.

“No, no it was my fault,” Dan tells him, offering him a small smile even though he wants to go home and curl up in bed now more than ever. “I was in a rush.”

“In a rush?” the other boy chuckles, motioning to the pretty grimy-looking back alley they’re stood in. It runs down the back of the bank of shops Dan’s restaurant is a part of, in between a bank, an antiques shop, two mini-supermarkets and a bar. The narrow space is mostly industrial bins, cigarette butts and puddles that never seem to dry up, and as Dan assesses his surroundings properly, he understands the scepticism in the man’s voice. “To get to this natural beauty?”

“I just wanted some fresh air,” Dan shrugs, and he doesn’t know how pathetic he looks but his acquaintance’s face softens a little.

“Bad night?”

“The worst,” Dan sighs. “My first and last, I think.”

“Does it have anything to do with the carrot on your shoe?”

Dan looks down at his shoe, noticing a stray vegetable attached that he hadn’t managed to clean off earlier. The other boy sounds like he’s trying not to chuckle, but Dan can’t help it. He cracks up with laughter. Within seconds, tears are streaming down his face, and he’s in hysterics at what a terrible, terrible first day he’s had.

“Yeah,” he manages to get out, and before he knows it, he’s spilling the entire sorry tale to this poor bloke who just happened to be lurking here as Dan stumbled outside.

By the end of it though, he’s laughing too, and it’s with a slightly disappointed look that he pulls his phone out and checks the time.

“Well, I’ve got to get going,” he informs Dan, and when Dan raises an eyebrow, he points to a door one along from where Dan exited earlier. “I work at the club, and my fifteen minutes are up.”

“I’m so sorry,” Dan says, suddenly aghast. “You came out here for a break and I’ve wasted your time telling you about how my toes are squelching in a red wine jus.”

“I promise you that this is the best break I’ve had all week,” he grins. “And I really am sorry about your night, it sounds bad. But for what it’s worth, I don’t think you should quit. It’d be nice to find you here again another night, maybe both of us on two feet?”

“That does sound better,” Dan laughs, and he’s glad it’s dark so no one can see the blush on his cheeks. “I might stick it out for another week then?”

“I might see you tomorrow then. I’m Phil, by the way.”

“Dan.”

They smile at each other, and then Phil ambles off to his own place, giving Dan an awkward wave before he slips inside. Realising his own ten minutes are up anyway, Dan heads back into the restaurant, confident at least that he can get through the remaining hours of his shift at least.

As it happens, Dan doesn’t last the week. He lasts two more days, and then when he steps outside with fish in his hair, much to Phil’s amusement, he informs his new friend that he’s quitting from tomorrow onwards, but he’d very much like his number before he goes. To the surprise of neither of them, sipping coffee together on a weekend is far nicer than mooching about in dark alleyways, even if Phil can see Dan’s pink cheeks now.


	6. luminescence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> luminescence -- prompted by anonymous  
> tw: none

Forty seven.

Forty seven candles Phil had found stashed away in various places around his bedroom, and he knew there were dozens more scattered throughout the rest of the flat. This was getting embarrassing.

“Phil, have you got my spare phone charger?” Dan called from the hallway, floorboards creaking as he padded his way through to Phil’s room.

“I think it’s in the living room!” Phil cried frantically, attempting to buy himself more time to hide the ever-growing pile of tealights, votives, pillars… he even had some dinner candles. They didn’t have a holder for these. What had he been thinking?

“Okay,” Dan answered, footsteps retreating, and Phil was reminded of exactly what he’d been thinking.

His boyfriend was afraid of the dark, and Phil liked- loved candles, and that combination had allowed him to assuage his guilt every time he popped more candles in his basket while out shopping. What if they had a power cut? What if every bulb in the apartment blew? What if there was a zombie invasion and they had to stay in the flat together for three years? Sure they wouldn’t have food, or other essential things for survival, but they’d have light, so Dan wouldn’t be scared.

Deep down, Phil knew this was a very flimsy excuse for his candle habit, but he hadn’t realised quite how bad the problem had gotten until this moment, moving week. In a few days’ time, they left Manchester for London, and now they were having to pack as economically as possible, being ruthless with what they took with them.

Having an entire box dedicated to candles was not going to fly with Dan at all.

As Phil looked at his little collection though, a bright mess of greens, pinks, oranges, lilacs, browns - why did he buy a brown candle? - he almost felt like they knew their fate, and that made him sad.

Get a grip, he told himself.

“Phil,” Dan yelled out again, and this time Phil sprang into action, dashing out of his room before Dan could enter and see the candle stash.

“Yes?” he asked, surprising Dan who had wandered out into the hallway again.

“Oh, hello. Um, it’s half six, and I hadn’t realised. Just wondered what you wanted to do about dinner?” Dan asked.

“Don’t suppose we’ve got much in?” Phil replied, and Dan shook his head. They’d been running down all their food supplies, given that they couldn’t exactly take them with them, and they weren’t keen on wasting anything.

“Nope, literally just cereal and endless tins of baked beans at this point,” Dan laughed, and Phil smiled.

“Takeaway then?”

“That’s what I was thinking,” Dan grinned.

“What do you fancy?”

“Well, we’ve only got a few more days here, so I thought maybe I could go pick up some Chinese from that place we tried out a few months ago? It’ll probably be the last time we can eat from there.”

They were silent for a moment, both looking at each other. Every time they even thought of doing something for the last time in Manchester, it made their stomachs squirm uncomfortably. The idea of leaving their home, the place they’d finally fallen for each other and moved in together and made a life together, been happy together, it gave them second thoughts about everything.

London was going to be so much fun though. It was going to be a new adventure, theirs from the very start, and that notion soon settled the stomach flipping. Still, Phil couldn’t resist taking Dan’s hand and giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Sounds like a plan,” he smiled, and Dan nodded. “Are you alright to go and get it or shall I?”

“I’ll go,” Dan said. “Need to get out of the house for a bit.”

Phil laughed in understanding, fishing for a tenner in his back pocket to cover half of the meal and giving Dan a quick kiss on the cheek.

“See you in a bit,” Phil said, and then Dan was gone, leaving Phil stood alone in the hallway.

It was obvious what needed to be done.

Abandoning finishing up his room for now, Phil sprinted into Dan’s room, clearing out the few candles he’d stored in his drawers, and then made his way onto the bathroom, knowing there were a few there too. Scurrying back to his room, hands full of candles already, Phil simply dropped them onto the existing pile then went to tackle the kitchen and living room.

He really needed to hide all of these before Dan got back, because they were planning to start on their shared rooms tonight and tomorrow, and there was no way he could explain the masses and masses of candles he’d burrowed away like a possessed squirrel over the years.

The giant candles in the glass jars, they were safe; he knew Dan would let him bring those down, so they just got carefully left on Phil’s bed. Everything else though, everything else was in danger. Jumbo packs of sandalwood tealights stored behind the spare kitchen roll, thirty pink votives packed into a cupboard Dan never used simply because they’d been on offer, a set of twenty assorted candles in containers just because they looked pretty but were actually unbearably strong.

By the time Phil got to his room, certain that he’d retrieved every candle from around the flat, he was looking at over a hundred of the damn things.

“Goodbye, friends,” he whispered softly to them, knowing they were all going to have to be disposed of before Dan could ever find out what a candle hoarder he was.

But then he could just start a new stockpile once they were in London, so all was not lost.

_got stuck in traffic on the way there :( won’t be back for another half hour or so xxx_

Phil’s phone pinged with the update from Dan, and he frowned, just as his stomach grumbled loudly. He hadn’t realised how ready he was for food until Dan had suggested it, and now that the candle hunt was over, he was very much aware of how hungry he was. Poor Dan though. The weather was pretty miserable outside, relentless rain making the sky much darker than it should have been, and he was pretty sure Dan had gone out in just a tshirt.

_Hope you’re okay! Don’t get too wet :) x_

_too late, i look like a drowned rat. xxx_

He smiled at his phone sympathetically. Rain had been threatening all day, so he was an idiot for not wearing a jacket, but he still felt sorry for him. Maybe they could watch his favourite film tonight, to make him feel better. Top boyfriend material. From nowhere, one of the candles rolled off the pile and settled next to Phil’s foot, and he grinned. Even better idea.

Forty five minutes later, Phil heard the sound of a key in the door and leapt up from the floor. He had a plan, and he was determined to see it through.

“I hate the world,” Dan muttered as he stepped into the apartment, shaking his hair.

“You’re soaked,” Phil giggled, earning himself a glare from his boyfriend. “Here, I’ll warm the food up while you go get out of your wet clothes.”

“Thanks,” Dan said, gladly handing over the little white bag and making his way to the bathroom, dripping down the hallway.

When he emerged into the living room not long after, Phil had their food spread out across the coffee table, Dan’s favourite film ready to play, and he was sat on the sofa eagerly waiting for him. At first, Dan didn’t seem to notice anything amiss, too busy running a hand through his now wavy hair and fiddling with the bottom of Phil’s hoodie, but as he looked up, he came to an abrupt stop.

“What the…” he breathed out, and Phil grinned at him, albeit nervously.

“What do you think?” he asked.

“I think this constitutes a serious fire hazard,” started Dan, and Phil’s face fell. Okay, so maybe lighting every single one of his re-discovered candles and dotting them around the living room was a tad dangerous, but he’d thought it was romantic too. “But it’s really cute. Why have you done this, you idiot?”

“Because it’s one of our last nights here,” Phil said, smiling up at Dan as he sat next to him on the sofa. “And I wanted it to be special.”

“Where did you even get all these from?” Dan laughed, in awe at the sheer number of flickering lights around the room. “Did you buy these specially?”

“No,” Phil said, fidgeting a little. “But it doesn’t matter where they’re from. Come on, food’s getting cold.”

Dan eyed him suspiciously for a moment, but his hunger won out and he reached forward for a box of noodles, while Phil helped himself to some chicken and pressed play.

Half an hour passed in comfortable silence, the two of them wolfing down their food, Dan occasionally looking round the room to once more take in the sight of all these candles. It was impossibly sweet, and every time he thought about it, he smiled at Phil again.

After a while though, Dan could feel his head throbbing with a dull pain, and he scrunched his eyes up, pressing his fingers to his temples to try and relieve it. He was sure he wasn’t tired yet, it wasn’t even nine, and the television had never caused him headaches before. Twisting round from leaning against Phil’s chest to look up at his boyfriend, he saw Phil squinting a little too.

“Are you okay?” he mumbled, talking making the headache a little worse.

“Head hurts a bit,” Phil admitted, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Same,” Dan replied, and Phil opened his eyes again, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Actually, I feel a bit light-headed too.”

“Same,” Phil echoed, pausing the film as his concern grew. He looked down at Dan, trying to suss out what was happening, then out at the room as if inspiration might strike - and it did. “Oh my god, I think it’s the candles.”

“What?” Dan asked, sitting up properly and raising an eyebrow at him. “But the light is really soft.”

“Not the light, the smell,” Phil said, chewing his lip. “Most of them are scented, and I didn’t really think about it before, but now I’m wondering if maybe… you know…”

“Oh my god, Phil,” Dan groaned, trying not to laugh as it hurt his head.

“I’m the least romantic person ever,” Phil huffed, and Dan stood up, offering a hand to him.

“No you’re not, you’re amazing, you just have Phil moments,” he said, kindness in his voice undermined by his snort, pulling his boyfriend up to stand next to him. “Come on, let’s just head to your room and finish the film in there.”

“Probably for the best,” Phil nodded, retrieving the film as Dan went about blowing out every single candle. It took him a good five minutes, and when he was finally certain he’d got them all and they wouldn’t burn to death in the middle of the night, he stumbled into Phil’s room feeling even dizzier.

“Okay, we’re good,” he said, all but collapsing onto the bed and pressing into Phil.

“Are you okay?” Phil asked, alarmed as he looked down at Dan, finger hovering over the touchpad on his laptop ready to resume the film.

“Fine,” Dan said weakly. “Just, next time you insist on lighting a hundred candles, you’re helping me put them out. And they won’t be scented.”


	7. babe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> babe -- prompted by darsbar  
> tw: none

_Hey, you_ , and that’s all it takes for Dan to drown in his feelings for Phil Lester once again.

He swears they’ve been talking for a few months now, and he still thinks and acts like a teenager when Phil says sweet things. And yeah maybe he is a teenager, but that’s not the point. Phil’s in his twenties, and if he’s ever going to feel the same way as Dan, Dan needs to grow up, and not swoon at being addressed as ‘you’, literally just the second person form of all human beings on earth-

Okay, Dan needs to stop internally ranting at himself and reply.

_hey :]_

Top response, Dan. Really show him that witty, loveable side of you.

 _How’s your day been?_ ^_^

_meh. how was yours?_

_Same, lol. Wanna Skype? Your face cheers me up <3_

Dan scrambles into his webcam position so quickly he nearly sends his dinosaur of a laptop crashing to the floor. Lunging out for it before it meets an abrupt end and stops the only thing that’s going to cheer him up tonight, Dan straightens it up, checks his hair, then signs in.

_ofc <3 :]]]_

As Phil’s face appears amongst his meagre list of online contacts, Dan pinches himself again. How the hell Phil Lester became his friend, he’ll never know, but he’s going to enjoy this for as long as it lasts, until Phil gets bored of talking to effectively just a fan and goes back to his real friends.

Their chat is loading, and Dan’s playing with his fringe, a tiny part of him hoping that maybe he and Phil are real friends now too, because he’s almost certain Phil doesn’t video chat all of his fans for hours on end a few times a week. Almost.

“Hey, gorgeous,” Phil grins, and Dan blushes instantly, rolling his eyes at himself.

“Hey,” Dan mumbles, still incredibly self-conscious around Phil. He’s always like this at the start, but then it’ll be three hours later and he’s lying on his bed, not even able to see those bright blue eyes buried beneath a mess of black hair, and spilling his deepest secrets to a stranger he’s helpfully fallen in love with.

It’s worse when Phil greets him with a compliment. Dan doesn’t really do pet names. Phil does, Phil can barely go two sentences without slipping in a ‘love’ or a ‘sweetheart’, but Dan just sticks to ‘idiot’ or 'nerd’, or his personal favourite, 'Phil’. It’s not because he doesn’t like Phil as much as Phil likes Dan; in fact, he’s certain he likes Phil a whole lot more than Phil likes him. He’s just shy, and unused to being so open with someone, for all the laidback image he forces across.

Besides, he’s pretty sure Phil knows that Dan loves him anyway. He must be able to see it in the way Dan stares at him a bit too long sometimes, in the way he asks him not to hang up until he’s asleep because the dark is less scary if Phil is there, in the way he texts him when he’s by himself at lunch because he just really needs a friend and Phil’s that and more.

“Tell me about your 'meh’ day then,” Phil invites him, and Dan chuckles.

“That is not how you say the word 'meh’,” Dan argues, and Phil frowns at him.

“Of course it is! It’s like 'meh’.”

“You’re saying it all wrong.”

“Oh, I’m sorry that I’m pronouncing a made-up word incorrectly,” Phil teases, and Dan grins, feeling the hideousness of the day just melt away.

“Should be,” Dan winks, but Phil doesn’t notice. His eyes are flicking from side to side, and Dan figures he’s reading something. This happens quite often - Phil is so easily distracted, it’s almost painful - and usually Dan just goes back to his homework or his game or whatever else he was doing until Phil zones back into their conversation.

Often when Phil’s reading, he pokes his tongue out a little, and his eyebrows knit together as he squints to pick out the words on screen, and yeah, maybe Dan’s taken a few secret screen prints before now. Only today he doesn’t look like he normally does. There’s a more intense concentration in his eyes, and he’s frowning, eyebrows properly furrowed.

“Phil?” he asks hesitantly, not wanting to disturb his reading and annoy him, because god knows Dan’s just waiting for the minute the penny drops and Phil realises he’s actually talking to an irritating teenager who gives him sarcastic answers in the voice of a cartoon bear, but he’s a little worried about him.

He gets no answer. The only difference is that Phil just starts chewing his lip and takes his earphones out, picking up his phone and seemingly texting someone. Dan tries not to take it to heart when it becomes clear Phil’s momentarily forgotten about him; he’s distracted, likely for good reason, and Dan’s lucky enough just to be talking to him right now, when he’s certain thousands of others would kill to be in his position.

Dan lazily flips open his textbook, just because he wants to busy his hands, but he barely reads a paragraph, too busy glancing back up at his screen to watch Phil. Ten minutes pass and Phil finally puts his earphones back in, by which point Dan’s desperate to know what’s wrong.

“Phil?” he says loudly, determined to get his attention. “Phil? Tell me what’s wrong? Phil, what’s happened? Babe, what is it?”

Phil starts at the way Dan addresses him, finally looking at Skype for the first time in fifteen minutes, only to find Dan peering at him anxiously, not even having realised what he’s said.

“Did you just call me babe?” he asks gently, and Dan’s neck grows uncomfortably hot. God only knows what colour his cheeks are, but he thinks he’s a few shades past scarlet.

“Yeah, sorry,” Dan mutters, looking down and twisting his hands in his lap. “Slipped out.”

“I don’t mind,” Phil smiles, but Dan’s still mortified.

“What’s wrong?” Dan asks abruptly, changing the subject. “Why do you look so upset?”

“It’s fine, it’s sorted,” Phil tells him, and Dan narrows his eyes, not quite believing him, but Phil looks pretty earnest, so he lets it slide. If he wants to tell Dan what really happened another time, he will. “Don’t change the subject. You just called me babe.”

“Is this all we’re going to talk about for the rest of the night?” Dan asks grumpily, flopping onto his stomach and tilting his laptop a little so Phil can still see him, can watch him looking determinedly at his textbook.

“Just for five minutes?” Phil ribs, and Dan sticks his tongue out at him. “Okay, okay, I’ll drop it. But it was really cute though. And I really liked it. And it would be alright if you said it again.”

“Are you done?” Dan huffs, forcing down his smile.

“Done,” Phil says, giving him a thumbs up and a knowing smirk. “So come on. Why was your day 'meh’?”

“Oh my god, you’re still saying it wrong.”

If Dan calls him babe again a few weeks later and Phil laughs in a very un-Phil-like way, well that’s a thing. And if Dan calls him babe when they finally meet in person and Phil Lester, AmazingPhil, goes weak at the knees in his arms, well that’s a thing too. And if Dan continues to pull out babe every time he wants something for the rest of forever… well, Phil’s figured him out by this point, but it’s a definite thing.


	8. lonely

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lonely -- prompted by anonymous  
> tw: language

10.41am  
i’m lonely. xx

10.42am  
I’m trying to go back to sleep, you should too, loser. x

10.42am  
i can’t sleep.

10.43am  
i just lie down and cough

and then cough some more

and then groan

and that hurts

10.45am  
Yes, I know, I can hear you, Dan. Go to sleep! Once you drop off, you’ll be fine <3 x

10.46am  
come cuddle me? xx

10.48am  
i know you’re awake because i can hear you huffing, don’t huff at me. i’m ill.

10.49am  
I’M ILL TOO.

AND IT’S YOUR FAULT.

10.50am  
yeah we’re both ill, so you can come cuddle me, and it’ll be fine. xx

10.53am  
The whole point of sleeping in separate rooms this week is so we get better faster. Quarantine, if you will. x

10.54am  
fuck you and your quarantine, if you will.

10.55am  
You’re so tetchy when you’re ill. This will work. Go to sleep. x

10.56am  
we’re not animals, phil, we don’t need to be quarantined. come and cuddle me and then i’ll be able to sleep. plz xx

10.58am  
No. I’m tired, and I’m going to sleep, because I’m already bored of feeling like this. x

10.59am  
i’m bored of being by myself

11.00am  
Dan, it’s been one night. And I know you didn’t go to bed until about 2, so it’s literally been less than 12 hours. SLEEP. x

11.01am  
fine. xx

11.09am  
phil, i really can’t sleep. i’m so lonely, and so cold.

11.10am  
Turn the heating on. x

11.10am  
or… you join me.

11.11am  
11:11 phil comes to take care of his sick boyfriend

11.12am  
you’d be warmer too. xxxxxxxxx

11.15am  
being sick is no fun without you.

11.16am  
i mean, not that it’s fun anyway

but

you know what i mean

11.18am  
phil, i can hear your phone buzzing, so you can too.

11.20am  
philip

11.22am  
phillllipppp

11.25am  
Dan, would you kindly fuck off?

11.27am  
You insisted we cuddle before, and that’s how I ended up ill, so forgive me for not wanting to cuddle you right now. I don’t want this to get worse, so I’m trying to sleep it off, LIKE YOU SHOULD BE. x

11.28am  
jfc

11.30am  
okay, night xx

11.32am  
Night <3 x

12.00pm  
i’m awake again xx

12.02pm  
i can hear you swearing at me through the wall

12.04pm  
You were meant to.

12.05pm  
i really don’t feel as ill, i think my 27 minute nap has healed me

can we cuddle now?

12.06pm  
phil

12.07pm  
phiiiiillllllll

12.08pm  
i might just come in anyway

12.09pm  
on my way!

12.10pm  
I hate you.

12.22pm  
hey phil?

12.23pm  
Dan, fuck right off, you’re lying right next to me, go to sleep.

12.24pm  
ily <3

12.25pm  
ily too x


	9. giraffes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> giraffes -- prompted by notyournormalninja  
> tw: food mentions, animals/bugs mentions

The atmosphere in the taxi is one of intense excitement, as it was on the train, on the walk to the train station, all of this morning and all of last night.

Dan feels like this when he’s about to go on stage, when the lights go down just before a concert starts, when he’s seeing friends he hasn’t seen in a while, but Phil, Phil feels like this when they’re going to the _zoo_.

“Please calm down,” Dan mutters, so embarrassed by his boyfriend that he can’t even join in with the excitement. Phil is practically humming, leg bouncing against the floor of the car so rapidly that Dan was forced to place a hand on it just five minutes into the journey.

They have twenty minutes to go.

“Sorry,” Phil whispers, biting his lip and grinning at Dan sheepishly, and Dan rolls his eyes, looking out the window so Phil won’t see him smiling.

The main reason Phil is so excited is because he’s tried to organise this date - Dan considers this a flexible term - three times already, and they keep getting interrupted by more pressing matters, because really, the zoo isn’t a priority. It should be, and it really is to Phil, but for the sake of his career and perhaps his relationship, it’s a little further down the list.

Still, here they are, finally on their way, and sure, maybe the sky is a little grey and the forecast is a bit more miserable than Phil may have made out to Dan, but the point is… animals.

And he’s done his research, boy has he done his research. They’re going to the most animal-friendly zoo possible - Dan set boundaries on how far he was willing to travel to go to a _zoo_ \- with an owner who rescues as many monkeys as she can to give them a better life, and where there are several conservation projects in full swing, researchers from the local university studying the animals, and constant fundraising to make it a great environment.

Basically, they’re going to the zoo of Phil’s dreams, and he can’t wait to see everything. Sure, hedgehogs and pigeons are great, but they do get a little samey.

“Do you think they’ll have giraffes?” Phil eventually whispers to Dan, and Dan turns to him, tilting his head wearily and then giving in.

“Yes, probably,” he sighs, and he doesn’t miss the weird look the taxi driver casts them in the rearview mirror. Probably can’t wait to chuck them out of his cab.

“Dan, I’m so excited,” Phil giggles, and Dan just laughs along with him, because he has no choice at this point.

—

The zoo has giraffes. It has three giraffes, which Phil spends entirely too long gazing at, and of course Dan thinks they’re brilliantly interesting animals too, but if they’re being honest, all they do is slope around and eat a little. A life worth leading, Dan agrees, but there’s only so long they can watch them eat grass.

At least, Dan thinks that’s the case, until they reach the zebras, and then the elephants, and by the time they’ve reached the monkey section of the zoo, Dan has given up. On Phil, on life, on the 99 ice cream he’d been hoping for. God knows when they’re going to fit lunch in - at this rate, Phil’s just going to hop in an enclosure and dine with the gorillas.

Not that Dan is complaining. This is quite possibly the best date Phil has ever thought up, because it’s entirely effortless, and Phil is so _happy_. It’s Dan’s favourite sight, a carefree smile on Phil’s face, with his eyes shining and his brows slightly raised because he can’t believe how great this is, and Dan thinks that if he were to spend the rest of his life falling in love with this man, it wouldn’t be long enough.

“Look, it’s you,” Phil snickers, pointing to a particularly grumpy mountain gorilla who hasn’t moved in the entire twenty minutes they’ve been in here, apart from right now, when another gorilla has stolen his food and he’s lunged at them with a force that makes Dan quite glad there’s a thick sheet of glass in front of him.

“Hilarious,” Dan says, rolling his eyes, but soon points to a mandrill and utters the same remark, which earns him a playful nudge from Phil on the arm.

Phil is eventually persuaded to stop for lunch, something Dan is highly relieved at, but then they’re up again, off to some outdoor animals, and Dan’s wondering why it’s suddenly gone so quiet, where all the people have gone, when he’s interrupted by Phil.

“Look,” he says breathlessly, pointing at an animal, his eyes wide and entranced. “Look at that.”

“What is it?” Dan asks, raising an eyebrow as he looks at the rodent-like creature.

“A Patagonian mara,” Phil reads off the information board, as if it were a precious gem, and not just some strange rabbit-kangaroo hybrid. “Isn’t it amazing?”

“Fantastic,” Dan laughs, taking advantage of the lack of people to slip his hand in Phil’s subtly. It is a _date_ , after all.

Phil blushes, his eyes immediately torn from the animal to settle on Dan, and then Dan’s blushing at the radiance in Phil’s eyes.

“Thank you for this,” Phil grins, turning to face him properly, even bobbing up on his toes and sneaking a quick kiss on the cheek. “Honestly, it’s been the best day.”

“I guess it’s been pretty decent,” Dan mumbles, and Phil smiles smugly, not even caring anymore as he leans in for a proper kiss with his boyfriend.

There is absolutely no one around after all, so what could possibly-

“Oh, Jesus Christ,” Dan groans as the heavens open on them.

The rain is relentless, like buckets of water being poured from the sky, from seemingly nowhere, though now Dan thinks about it, this might account for the lack of people around, because everyone else is clever enough to think ahead and take shelter, but no, they have to be outside admiring kangaroos and their odd, reject cousins when it starts to chuck it down.

“Sorry!” Phil giggles, and Dan wants to glare at him, but Phil’s got water dripping from his eyelashes, and his t-shirt is plastered to his body, and his smile stretches across his whole face, and god, Dan can’t do anything but look at him in awe.

“Come on,” Dan grumbles, pulling him by the hand towards the nearest building, figuring they can go look at some hamsters or lizards or something until the rain stops.

“Ooh, great idea!” Phil says, pushing through the door before Dan and holding it open for him, along with the heavy plastic flaps ahead of them. Dan notes that it’s strangely warm and humid in here, but he doesn’t have time to dwell on that given that Phil has disappeared already.

He will regret this decision when he steps inside to find he is surrounded by moths.


	10. sleepless

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sleepless -- prompted by cloudyrica  
> tw: food/drink mentions

There was a time, just a few years ago actually, in the Dan and Phil household, where peace and quiet reigned supreme. Where silent glances were enough to express how the other felt, where the simple brush of one hand against another meant the world, where it was only loud when a single giggle broke the calm and then laughter erupted. All was happy, and well, and relaxed.

And now Dan arrives home from a meeting to find the television at an ear-splitting volume, a timer in the kitchen going off, a baby starting to cry from one room, and his husband and five-year-old daughter lying on their fronts facing each other by the front door snarling at each other.

“Roar!” Phil yelled at Jamie, making her squeal with delight.

“Raaa,” she growled back, and Phil shook his head, feigning disappointment.

“No, no, you need to put more into it, everything you’ve got,” he encouraged, clenching his fist and giving it a shake as if to demonstrate. He pushed the oldest, grubbiest teddy towards her and pointed at it. “You have to be like Lion, you have to be strong.”

“Roar!” Jamie shouted, a little more volume this time, and Phil beamed at her, as if she’d won a spelling contest, not just reached his standards of animal impersonations.

It was at this moment that Dan arrived home, and Jamie immediately clambered up off the floor and ran to him, barely letting him drop his bag on the floor before attaching herself to him, chubby arms wrapped tightly around his neck.

“Daddy, Daddy, Papa was showing me how to roar like Lion!” she grinned at him, her tongue poking out through the new gap in her teeth.

“What a very productive way to spend the afternoon,” Dan said brightly, and Phil hopped up off the floor, shooting him a unamused look over their daughter’s head.

“He said that we’ll do elephants next time,” Jamie said proudly, entirely oblivious to her parents. “Listen, I’ve been practising already.”

Dan kept smiling as his daughter made a horrifying noise, squirming in his arms as she really got into character, and he could hear Phil snickering as he made his way into the kitchen to hopefully salvage a probably burnt dinner.

The house was in disarray - they were moving in just a few weeks, so they’d made a start on packing the non-essentials, and now alongside the usual scatterings of children’s toys, Phil’s socks, and general rubbish, there were also cardboard boxes which apparently doubled up as a brand new game.

“Okay, my little elephant, why don’t you and help Papa get dinner ready, and I’ll check on M? Tell Papa where I am.”

Jamie fell down to the floor with a little thump and then took off, feet moving faster than her legs for a moment as she headed towards Phil. She always had approximately too much energy for a few hours after school, and then in about half an hour’s time, she’d flag and it would be bedtime.

Dan looked forward to bedtime. He adored his children more than anything in the world, and he’d never known a time when he didn’t arrive home to tiny arms hugging his leg and feel his heart about to burst, but after a long day like today, he was definitely looking forward to curling up on the sofa with Phil and a glass of wine.

“Dinner will be five minutes, love,” Phil called from the kitchen, having received the message.

“Okay, I’ll be out in a few,” Dan hollered back, kicking off his shoes properly and heading towards the sounds of his son crying.

Opening their bedroom door, Dan snapped on one of the bedside lamps, pausing to take an enormous yawn, and then ambled over to the cot next to their bed, the one that had only been there a few months and he was already going to miss when they moved into the house that had a bedroom for everyone.

“Hey little man, what’s wrong?” Dan said softly as he picked Michael up and pulled him into his chest, unable to help the way his voice changed when he spoke to his son. “Shh, enough of that, shh, it’s okay, it’s okay.”

They stayed there for a few moments, Dan lightly moving from one foot to another, until they were stood there quietly, Michael settling down the instant he was safe in his father’s arms. Dan could quite possibly stand here forever, and had felt the exact same way when Jamie had been this age. Pressing a gentle kiss to Michael’s fuzzy hair, they wandered back out to the kitchen together, and Dan didn’t miss the fond look Phil gave them as they entered.

He set Michael down in his highchair as usual, and then took the seat opposite Phil, with Jamie in between them. Back in the good old days, perhaps they’d watch a TV show at this point, or laugh about something very unfunny, but now their dinnertimes followed quite the routine-

“Daddy, do you want to know what I learned at school today? I’m going to tell you anyway.”

—

Curling up on the sofa with some red did not happen.

By the time they’d finished the dishes, bathed both children, sorted out lunches for tomorrow and finally tackled the enormous pile of washing that needed doing, there was no need for them to voice their tiredness out loud. Phil just glanced at Dan, and Dan nodded wearily at him, and then they retreated to their room, their pyjamas, and each other.

The moment, the exact moment, they flopped down into bed together, an ear-piercing scream sounded from down the hall and Dan groaned. This was Jamie’s third nightmare in as many days.

“I’ll go,” Phil said gently, and Dan mumbled a ‘thanks’ as Phil slipped out of the room, planning to close his eyes for a second while he waited for Phil to get back to snuggle into, only for them to fly open again as Michael woke up, startled awake by his big sister.

Sometimes, in moments like this, Dan fleetingly misses the peace and quiet. And then he gets up to soothe his son, and his husband wanders in half an hour later with their hiccuping daughter to find M fast asleep on Dan’s chest. Within five minutes, Michael is safely tucked back in his crib, and Jamie is buried under their duvet, and Dan’s smiling into Phil’s chest as they finally, _finally_ , get some sleep.


	11. lamps

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lamps -- prompted by anonymous  
> tw: fear of the dark

It starts out amusing.

Two grown men touring with their own stage show, and they both revert to kids as soon as they enter each hotel room. Whether it’s flopping down onto the freshly made bed together and giggling at the rebellion of it all, or fighting over who gets the best free biscuit, every room holds a new adventure for the two of them.

They’re pretty sure their staff can hear them laughing like idiots until the early hours sometimes, and the less than impressed looks they sometimes get at breakfast are understandable. The thing is, every time they get accustomed to a place, and the excitement has disappeared, they’re moving on to another city, and it’s time to play again.

The light switches are often the most fun. 

For some reason, roughly ninety per cent of the hotel rooms they stay in have light switches _everywhere_. They are scattered across every wall, and never seem to make much sense as to which lights they correspond with.

This is the amusing part.

Whether it’s Dan snickering as he turns the lights off when Phil is in the shower, or reaching out to snap his lamp on first thing in the morning in a rather rude awakening, the abundance of switches is great. Of course, as revenge, Phil steals both their keycards on multiple occasions, returning from a trip to the shops to find an unhappy Dan burrowed under a duvet, teeth chattering at the unnecessary air conditioning switched on but a complete lack of light or electricity.

This goes back and forth for several weeks, but it’s at night when the light switch situation becomes less amusing and more annoying.

“Do you mind if I read for a bit?” Phil asks, peering down at Dan from over his glasses.

Each night they look like an elderly couple; in their pyjamas as soon as possible, film and a cuddle if they have time, and then they sit up next to one another, leaning on their pillows as Phil reads a book and Dan mindlessly scrolls through the internet.

“That’s fine,” Dan smiles. “I’m going to sleep though, if that’s okay?”

“Night night,” Phil says sweetly, reaching over to kiss Dan on the cheek and then going back to his book as Dan settles in, rolling over so he can face Phil and just watch him for a little while.

Contrary to popular belief, Dan does occasionally go to bed at a reasonable time, especially when they have a matinee and evening performance tomorrow. He doesn’t have a death wish. Still, he’ll take a few moments just to unashamedly gaze at Phil though, because these are his favourite moments. All is peaceful, just the sounds of the city still moving outside their window. The lighting in the room is soft, their bed is warm, and he is lulled to sleep by the sound of Phil’s breathing and the turning of pages.

Until Phil switches his lamp off, and the room is pitch black. As in, Dan doesn’t think he’s ever been anywhere this dark, and he can’t quite tell if his eyes are open or not.

Making a noise of discontent, he rolls over and switches his own bedside lamp on instead, unable to sleep without some sort of light. The dark is intimidating enough, but this kind of dark, the kind that swallows you up entirely, this is even worse.

“Dan,” Phil moans, squinting at the light. “Want to sleep.”

Phil waves an arm around haphazardly and succeeds in locating the switch next to his bed that controls Dan’s lamp too, breathing a sigh of relief when the room goes dark again.

“I can’t sleep without it,” Dan says in a small voice, feeling mildly embarrassed but not enough to resist switching his lamp back on again. “Please?”

Phil deliberates for a moment, and then rolls over so he’s facing away from Dan and the light, the room just about dark enough at this angle for him to drop off.

“Good job I love you,” Phil mumbles into his pillow, his voice muffled, but Dan gets the gist of it.

“Thank you,” Dan whispers, smiling contently and turning so his back is to Phil, enjoy the lamplight against his eyelids and feeling safe again.

The very next day, they go out and buy a nightlight - Dan refuses to call it a nightlight, it’s a tiny moodlight, Phil states that it is most definitely a nightlight - and the lamp issue is resolved for the rest of tour. Phil can sleep without light burning his eyes as he sleeps, but Dan doesn’t have to lie there wide-eyed, waiting for something to appear out the darkness that he can’t see until it’s too late.

Not that he’s ever melodramatic.

When they reach the USA, and most of their time is spent on a tourbus, they think the problem might just be solved. Everyone has an individual bed with a private curtain, so if Dan wants to keep his light on, there’s really no problem, because no one else can see it. The first few nights work like a dream, and Phil thinks that somehow he’s going to end up sleeping better on a bus than in a hotel room, despite there being no logic to that.

That is, until less than a week in, when his curtains are pulled aside just as he’s dropping off, and a voice whispers into the darkness.

“Phil, are you awake?”

He makes a noise of affirmation and budges over so that Dan can crawl into the tiny space too, pressing himself into Phil and wrapping an arm around his waist. He insists on cuddling into his older boyfriend still, even though Dan has been taller for a fair few years now.

“I don’t have a lamp in here,” Phil murmurs into his hair, feeling himself falling asleep again already.

“That’s okay,” Dan says quietly, pressing a kiss to Phil’s neck. “I’d rather sleep without a light than without a Phil.”

“You know, some people say that I’m-”

“Don’t push it.”

Phil smiles, and with one last kiss and whispered goodnight, they drop off again, sounds of the cities still rumbling past them.


	12. basketball

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> basketball -- prompted by anonymous  
> tw: language, minor injury

Phil shuffled into the changing rooms glumly, never a fan of the raucous yells of his peers at this time, nor a fan of undressing in front of them, spending any time with them at all, and certainly not doing physical exercise with them.

At least it was raining, Phil thought to himself, as he selected his usual corner of the room. The only thing worse than doing P.E. indoors was doing it outdoors. Everyone had an unwritten agreement as to where they changed for P.E., and Phil had decided to stick with the other kids who didn’t like their double period of gym every Tuesday and Thursday afternoon. They were quiet, but they didn’t cause him any bother, and that was all he asked for.

He hated Tuesday afternoons. Thursdays were better, because classes changed, and the half years were switched up, offering Phil the chance to actually talk to his friends. If he dropped the ball on a Thursday, no one cared. PJ and Chris would probably laugh at him, and then they’d move on, and Phil would _almost_ go so far as to say he didn’t mind it.

Tuesdays were different though. Tuesdays were the sort of day where he was chosen last for teams, and the unfortunate captain who had to suffer Phil’s presence on his team let out a heavy, pointed sigh as Phil ambled over.

Personally, Phil didn’t think he was _that_ bad at sports, but he supposed it was hard to shake the reputation he’d earned outside of gym. Tiny silver studs in his ears, a huge fan of tying multicoloured woven bracelets round his wrist, never seen without a pastel button-up and his perfectly white converse on non-uniform days, Phil definitely had a style, one that he loved, and that his friends loved, and that he tried to incorporate into his outfit every day despite their strict rules. As it was, that style also made him seem super friendly - which he was - and super innocent - which he certainly wasn’t - and those were two characteristics that did not make for someone good at sports. Apparently.

Carefully stashing his earrings in his blazer pocket, and gently securing tape over his new snug piercing, Phil dropped his phone into the safe box and then miserably followed the rest of the boys to the gym.

As expected, it was absolutely freezing, and some mats had been left out from a previous gymnastics class, which half the class were already throwing themselves on to in delight. Sometimes Phil wondered if he was surrounded by Year Elevens or Year Threes.

“Alright, alright, settle down,” their coach called, fighting a little to be heard over the sound of the rain hitting the metal roof and the shrieking of the class of thirty-odd.

Phil quietly made his way to the side of the hall, shivering in his shorts and tshirt, praying the two hours would end quickly. He was meeting PJ after school to help him with a new art project, and that was far more appealing than this misery.

“Right, partner up,” the coach yelled once he’d regained control. Phil physically deflated at the instruction. “We’re doing basketball drills for the first half, we’ll play some games in the second.”

Maybe Phil was wrong, maybe he would prefer to be outside in the rain right now, because the words ‘partner up’ and ‘games’ were just not happening for him today.

“Who hasn’t got a partner?”

Phil shuffled forward glumly as ever, very much used to how this would go. He would either be partnered with someone as inept at sports as he was, which honestly was a blessing, because they’d both just agree that they would suck, and expectations were wonderfully low, or someone too terrifying for anyone else to want to partner with.

“Lester, you’re with Howell.”

And apparently today was the second option.

Phil gulped as he moved an inch closer to Dan Howell. There was really no rational reason to be afraid of Dan. They’d been in the same class since infant school, were pretty much the same height after being some of the only few to have a freakish growth spurt in Year Nine, and Phil knew for a fact that they were of a similar intelligence level because the only time he wasn’t top of the class was if Dan was.

It was more just his appearance.

Compared to Phil’s baby blues and pinks, Dan’s all-black ensemble and fierce purple fringe were just intimidating. He looked less scary in P.E. admittedly, all of his piercings removed, but usually there were at least two lip rings, some around his eyebrow, and Phil had heard rumours of there being piercings elsewhere too.

Not that he paid much attention to Dan Howell, obviously. He was clearly just interested in other people’s piercing preferences given his own desire for more in his ears. As it was, he’d nearly passed out the other week, so he was having to space them out a bit, and by a bit, he envisioned several years between each piercing.

“Just to let you know, I really can’t be fucked with being here, and I probably won’t try,” was the first thing Dan said to him, and Phil just shrugged. At least they were on the same page.

“Alright, two partners at a time down the court, pass but keep moving, I want to see who can finish first,” their coach hollered out, and everyone meandered into two sort-of even groups at the edge of the court markings. The baskets hadn’t been pulled out yet, much to Phil’s relief, because throwing a ball was nowhere near as nightmarish as aiming one. “And when I say move, I mean running.”

Phil glanced at Dan, surprised to find the boy was looking back at him, and they seemed to make a silent agreement that any movement would be good for them. It certainly wouldn’t be running.

Minutes passed endlessly, and suddenly they were up. Not that there was much pressure, because  with two teams going at a time and an excess of basketballs lying around, most people were too wrapped up in their own conversations or games to pay much attention. Dan flicked the ball with his wrists so it spun a little, and then raised an eyebrow at Phil.

“Come on then,” Phil huffed, and he could swear he saw the edge of Dan’s mouth lift a little, but everyone knew that Dan Howell didn’t smile.

What happened next was a bit of a blur. Phil was pretty certain that he and Dan hadn’t been doing too bad a job, and they hadn’t dropped the ball, but then suddenly Phil was on the floor, cracking his head against the wooden surface of the gym and groaning in pain.

See, at least if they’d been outside, this would have been soft mud, his brain unhelpfully supplied.

Phil blinked, trying to assess what the hell had happened, before realising there was a lot of shouting going on just to his left. Sitting up, a move he instantly regretted when the room swam, Phil’s eyes widened as he watched Dan square up to one of the boys who had been practising at the same time as them.

“The fuck are you playing at?” Dan growled, towering over the kid who looked rightly terrified.

“Swear it was just an accident,” he protested, and Phil would have been quite impressed had he not felt so dizzy.

The classmate currently stuttering up at Dan was one of their year’s sports stars, and no one ever questioned him in P.E. - no one except Dan, apparently.

“Howell!” their coach reprimanded sharply. “Language! Now what happened here, lads?”

Phil decided that for the time being, sitting on the floor was probably his best option, so he leaned back on his arms a little, trying to blink the world back into focus. Above him, Dan, the coach and the other team were huddled in a circle, while the rest of the class had gone silent, far too interested in what was happening on the court.

“This idiot,” Dan said pointedly, prodding the offender in the chest with what looked like some force, “dropped the ball, and instead of just letting it roll towards us, he fucking lunged for it and crashed into Lester.”

“I won’t warn you about your language again,” was their coach’s first response, before he turned to them all. “Did you mean to hit the other team?”

“I swear, sir, swear it was an accident,” the boy said hurriedly, shaking his head so fast Phil was slightly concerned it would wobble right off.

“Well let’s consider this lesson learned then. In future, be more careful, and aware of who’s around you. Howell, do you think you can manage to take Lester to the nurse’s office?”

Phil closed his eyes in embarrassment. Only he could get a head injury from playing basketball. They weren’t even playing, the class was only on the first set of drills. Dear god.

Dan seemed to grunt a response, and then crossed back over to Phil, whose eyes quickly flew open. Dan’s footsteps had been heavy, and his tone of voice less than five seconds ago had been furious. And now he was being forced to take Phil to the nurse’s office. What if Phil never even made it there? What if Dan finished him off before they arrived? Not that he’d ever known Dan be violent, he just had a well-known temper, but people could change, people could snap-

“Hey, are you okay? Do you need some help getting up?”

There was silence for a moment, as Phil tried to process the soft-spoken voice offering him help. It seemed to belong to Dan, but that idea also seemed to throw the universe out of balance.

“Phil, can you hear me?” Dan asked, looking even more worried now, and chewing his lip as his eyes frantically scanned Phil.

“Yeah, sorry,” Phil mumbled out, finding his voice. “Would you mind?”

He held out a hand which Dan grabbed, carefully pulling Phil to his feet and steadying him as he wobbled a bit.

“Is it okay if I take you to the nurse?” Dan asked, that same gentle voice, his eyes searching Phil’s for the answer because clearly Phil was completely incapable of speech at that moment.

“Yeah, that’s, s’fine, if you don’t mind?” Phil asked, furrowing his eyebrows at Dan for a moment. Or at least, the strange person who certainly looked like Dan, but didn’t behave like him.

“No, no worries,” Dan said, offering him a tentative smile now it seemed unlikely Phil was going to drop dead on the spot. Phil couldn’t help but notice the tiny dimple in one of his cheeks, and his legs went to jelly again for an entirely different reason.

Together they walked out of the gym, going slowly because Phil really had taken quite the bash to the head, and although he was probably safe from concussion, there was a splitting headache forming that was getting worse by the second.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Dan asked worriedly the whole way through the school, and Phil really wanted to question it, but decided just to go with it for now. Dan Howell looking pretty but being incredibly nice? A bad combination for his heart, but a pretty safe one for his head.

As it was, his meeting with the floor had left Phil with quite the lump on his head, one which the nurse had looked a little horrified at. He didn’t think he’d fallen that hard. With some painkillers and an ice pack she’d sent him on his way, instructing him to grab his stuff from the changing room and go straight home.

Dan kindly volunteered to help, bolting all the way back to the gym to fill their coach in on the events, a very un-Dan-like thing to do, and then carrying Phil’s stuff for him as he walked him home. Phil insisted on several occasions that he really, really didn’t need to do that, but Dan said he didn’t mind.

Besides, Phil supposed it was kind of fun. And he supposed it was kind of fun that Dan started walking him home most other days too.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to send me more words and I'll write a mini phanfic inspired by them! Just head to patchworkshirt on tumblr :)


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